Until Proven Innocent

As I drove home, I turned into the local radio station. Of course, the press had found out about the murder at the rock concert already, and it was the scandal of the day. A rock star? A supposed murderer? Family and friends were interviewed, as well as Mr. Sanders' band colleagues who kept saying he was acting strange but that he didn’t do it.

Me neither, I thought. It was only then that I realized how dangerously biased I was, seeing as there was a lot of evidence against my client. It was my first time defending a murderer, the first time ever talking to one in private - how would I know how it feels to have the right guy?

Rolling my eyes, I changed the radio channel when the interview with her mom was sent again. But much to my dismay, it seemed to be on all channels. I rolled my eyes as I switched off the radio. A flashy black BMW convertible suddenly turned up behind me and drove dangerously close. God damn it, why were all people being morons today? I honked, then showed him the finger.

I drove slower to signal him he could pass me. He kept accelerating and I had to, too since he would have rammed me. I looked at the driver’s face in the mirror. He looked young. He was probably barely twenty-one with a boyish face and long surfer hair. I supposed he only just got his driver’s license and now needed to compensate for his small dick, as most crazy drivers in Germany were said to do.

I knew I should have braked and have him pay for the damages but I just didn’t want the trouble. I went even slower, and somehow he managed not to crash into me. He waved with a grin as he drove past me on the left lane. Moron.

I pressed the FaceTime call button once I arrived at home, not caring that I still needed to walk upstairs in order to have the best reception. Home - that was a large mansion. The word house wouldn’t do it justice. My mom often complained that people thought she was stuck up and bragging because of the large house, but in reality it was just how my grandpa built it back then when it was much cheaper. And it constantly needed improvement, and there wasn't a time in history that I remembered when nothing was broken inside this goddamned house. Still, I loved it, and it was my home. It was white with a cinder roof and elegant dark wooden details.

The inside was beautifully decorated, another one of my mom’s countless qualities. She liked to change the colors in the living room each year, and this year, the details, such as the couch cushions and the tea cloth, were light pink. My dad didn’t like it as much, definitely.

I was almost ready to hang up when she finally answered. “Vivian,“ she said in her pleasant voice, which was almost too deep for a woman her size. Her middle length dark brown hair was hidden under a towel. “Hey Mom!“

She flashed a grin. “I heard you got another ticket today.“ I rolled my eyes. Yup, rolling my eyes was kind of my signature move. If people let me, it would probably be banging my head against something instead. But I was fine with rolling my eyes. It was at least subtle.

“I know,“ I said dramatically, “when will I learn? Maybe I’ll have to spend my entire money on parking tickets!“ She laughed. “How’s Amsterdam treating you guys?“ After some back and forth talking about the city I only knew because of the legal marijuana, my dad finally joined, too. He was bearded and half bald, but it suited him well. His eyes were incredibly blue, and to this day I’m not certain how I got green eyes. He looked very relaxed.

“I got a new case,“ I told them, “Murder. You probably read about it already…“ Mom’s eyes lit up. “Amazing! That Shadows case… Why murder?“ I understood where her last question was headed. In Germany, the killing of another human had to meet certain criteria in order to be ruled as murder, everything else was manslaughter.

You had to kill with bloodlust, or to satisfy your sexual appetite, out of greed or other so-called base motives, insidiously, cruelly or with means that were constituting a public danger, or you had to kill to cover a previous offense. Murder got you a life sentence whereas with manslaughter, the minimum sentence was only five years. It made a big difference, of course.

“I don’t really know yet, I guess insidiously, and maybe sexual appetite. Apparently, the client wrote a song about necrophilia, which is why they’re looking into it. And to cover up, definitely. They say he raped her before," I explained.

“Wow,“ Mom said, but her expression did not change once. After the Tortured Tourist case where a tourist was injected with something to prevent him from fainting, then tortured to death and eventually set on fire - alive and without passing out - nothing was going to shock her anymore. But during that time I found her sitting in the living room awake with a glass of wine in the middle of the night way too often.

“Yeah, I met him today. He seems like… not really like a murderer at all. He’s mannered, nice even,…“ I said. I instantly regretted saying that when I saw how shocked my parents looked. “Did you agree to see him without guards or cuffs?“ I nodded, knowing my mom would find out if I lied.

“Well, Viv, we did some research today after we read the news and… I’ll send you a couple of things I found. You’re definitely not seeing him without precautions anymore. We think this man is extremely dangerous…“ Her telling me about googling him made me curious. I didn’t want to keep talking to them all of a sudden. I wanted to google that man, to get to know him. None of my clients were famous, so I had to rely on what they told me about themselves. But Mr. Sanders… was a different story.

“Hello? Earth to Vivian,“ my Mom complained. “I said how did you get such a high reputation case?“ Yeah Mom, thanks for reminding me that I suck and that I don’t deserve this case. You know what? I’ll prove you that I’m a great lawyer. I’ll get under ten years for this guy, I vowed to myself. I knew that if I set my mind to something, I was able to achieve a lot. The thing was that nothing thrilling had come my way so far, which was why I did a lot of shitty deals with the DA just because I got my money one way or another. And those assholes deserved it anyway.

Now you may ask why I’m still in criminal law anyway if I don’t care about my clients or something. Well, for starters: Most of them don’t deserve me - or anyone - to put a lot of work into setting them free when they kept doing the same wrong thing over and over.

But more importantly: My mom may have made a deal saying if I stay clear from drugs and make a name in the field of criminal law, I could maybe still become a state attorney after five years. Don’t say it’s nepotism. Hey, the people at the DA are the ones prosecuting the evil ones, don’t say they’re doing things they’re not supposed to. They know the law, after all!

Anyway, two of those five years were done already, and while I didn’t fuck up royally, I also didn’t cover myself in glory either.

“Uh listen mom, I gotta go,“ I lied, suddenly really determined to make a name with this case. This certainly was the best opportunity, and quite frankly the only one I got. Even if I did my best defending those drug dealers in court, I would not meet the criteria of the DA’s office to even look at me twice.

I would do well with this Sanders case, and then I could finally work the way I wanted to. Getting the bad guys into jail instead of getting them out. Finally.
My parents waved their goodbyes over the phone, then promised to e-mail me some interesting information they were able to gather from the internet.

Notes

And an update on this story :) I hope you guys like it!